


Rosie Cotton's Story

by StarlingChild4



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, I literally wrote this on a whim after yet another LOTR movie marathon, Romantic Fluff, but poor Rosie is Sam's future wife; give her some love too!, look all I'm saying is we know plenty about Sam and Frodo's bond, movie and book verse, originally posted on ff.net, some hobbit shenanigans - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlingChild4/pseuds/StarlingChild4
Summary: An inner look at Sam and Rosie's unwritten romance. From childhood to tweens to adulthood, here blooms Rosie's budding feelings for the shy yet true Samwise Gamgee...Originally posted on ff.net, from July 27, 2017 - Aug. 5, 2017
Relationships: Rose Cotton/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Storytelling and Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Expect lots of fluff, not much strict canon, and some dry humor on the side. This fic is virtually left unchanged from its original form, except some basic edits. Enjoy!

Bilbo Baggins developed a rather infamous reputation among his peers of being "odd" and "abnormal" for a hobbit. Ever since his mysterious disappearance with the wizard Gandalf and a party of loud dwarves, and his even more mysterious reappearance several months later, when most of Hobbiton presumed him dead, Bilbo Baggins became an enemy of the Sackville-Baggins' and a rather avoided neighbor. Which was a "real shame," older hobbits would sigh and tsk to one another, because Mr. Baggins was once one of the most respectable of neighbors. 

But the hobbit children didn't care. The little ones adored hearing "Mr. Bilbo's" stories about trolls, goblins, the nasty creature Gollum, and dragons in mountains. Among his favorite audience members were Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee, and Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's nephew and adopted ward. 

Every other Saturday afternoon, a gathering of a dozen or so hobbit children would flock to Mr. Bilbo's door, at Bag End, knock and eagerly await his kindly old face and jovial voice to greet them and invite them inside. Bilbo loved company, and found himself strangely in favor of a younger crowd than his old tradition of fellow adult hobbits. Certainly, inviting children meant he needed to cut down on the pipe-weed and ale, but no matter. If there's anything Bilbo Baggins loves, it’s a willing and eager audience at his beck and call. 

For these occasions, he prepared snacks for his hungry listeners, and eventually memorized personal favorite dishes among them: Peregrin, or Pippin, as his friends called him, was fond of sponge cake, Meriadoc, or Merry, preferred lemon cake, Sam always politely asked for strawberries and cream, and Frodo, Bilbo's dear nephew, wanted simple tea and buttered bread. The four hobbit friends were Bilbo's oldest and most eager of story listeners, and spent a good majority of their childhood herding other hobbit children to Bag End, despite some protests of parents not approving of "Odd Bilbo Baggins." But after a pot of tea was brewed and snacks were given out accordingly, even the most reluctant of guests succumbed to the joys of eating and listening to grandiose tales. 

There was one hobbit child who secretly wished to join the club, but never felt quite brave enough to join them at the doorstep. That was shy, golden-haired Rosie Cotton. For months, she watched the gaggle of little hobbits file in and out of Bag End, and even sneaked a peek in the window to watch an animated Bilbo Baggins reenact his stories to a mesmerized audience. She dearly wished to join them, but always felt too embarrassed to ask, let alone simply waltz in like the majority of them. 

One Saturday afternoon, while Frodo and his friends were persuading a small group of younger hobbits to join them, Samwise noticed shy Rosie, hiding (not so subtly) behind a rosebush. Curious, Sam marched over and asked Rosie, rather bluntly, "Hello, do you wish to join us?"

Rosie squeaked in alarm, and dashed away. She could hear Sam's voice calling her back, but she ran on till she reached the security of her own hobbit hole, swearing to herself that she would never do something so foolhardy again. 

But the call of storytelling was too great, and the next Saturday afternoon, Rosie was there again, and Sam noticed her as well. But he pretended not to see her as he joined his friends inside Bag End, then deliberately left the door open. For a short while, Rosie stared at the open door, and the door seemed to beckon to her... then Sam's curly head poked out. 

Rosie ducked down, and almost made a run for it, when Sam's voice called out, "If there is any hobbit out there who wants to hear Mr. Bilbo's stories and join us for snacks and tea, may he or she do so now!" After shooting a dramatic glance from left to right, he finally ducked back inside. 

Blushing, Rosie gathered her courage and darted out from her hiding spot and finally approached the doorstep of Bilbo Baggins's hobbit hole. She stepped inside and quietly tiptoed toward the sound of laughter and voices. She found herself surprisingly at ease at blending in with the other hobbit children. 

Granted, she almost leaped out of her skin when Mr. Bilbo himself asked her kindly what kind of snack she'd like. Eyes downcast and turning a tinge of pink, she murmured, "Honeycakes, please," received and bobbed a curtsey, and fled into the living room with the other hobbit children. She took her seat well in the back, and quietly began munching on her honeycake, praying she may go the rest of the evening unnoticed. 

Unfortunately, Samwise Gamgee was not one to pick up on these kinds of social cues. 

"Mr. Bilbo, sir!" He said rather loudly, standing right next to a mortified Rosie Cotton. "We have a new guest and she would like to sit up front with Mr. Frodo and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin and me, sir!" 

Rosie turned bright pink, as her bewildered young peers turned around to face her. But Sam, young, blunt, oblivious Sam, took Rosie's hand, pulling her gently yet firmly to her feet, and lead her to the front of the group, and faced Mr. Bilbo with squared shoulders and a puffed-out chest --- looking quite ridiculous, but endearing, resulting in causing his friends Merry, Pippin, and Frodo to devolve into quiet giggles. Rosie kept her eyes downcast, blushing, and holding Sam's hand tightly, wishing this nightmare would end. 

"But of course, my boy, of course!" Bilbo's kind voice broke the ice, and the two young hobbits' shoulders sagged with relief. "Come, my dear girl, and sit by my nephew and this kind boy who thought of you." 

Rosie nodded dumbly, and plopped down with Sam, vainly wishing her fellow peers would stop gaping at her. But Sam's hand kept holding hers tightly, and she finally looked up at his face. 

Roundish, comely, and altogether not too remarkable or attractive, but there was something.... warm about his demeanor. He had wide, eager-to-please brown eyes, and his cheeks were heavily freckled. And for all his awkwardness, there was a likeness in his smile and overall aura. 

Rosie found herself staring openly now, at Samwise Gamgee's comely yet appealing face, till he turned his head and caught eye contact. His face flushed dark red, and he instantly let go of her hand and promptly sat under both of his hands, murmuring an apology, and staring pointedly at Bilbo's feet. 

Rosie's heart skipped a beat. For the first time in her life, she wanted a boy to hold her hand. Just once more. 


	2. The Pretty Barmaid

As the years rolled by, Rosie Cotton grew more confident and gathered more friends. She learned to move past her initial shyness and invite friends over for tea, soon discovering that, depending on the company, she rather liked being social. Ten years since that fateful Saturday night, when she first visited Mr. Bilbo's home, the majority of her peers had all but forgotten how timid she was, and could only ever see her as the "belle of Hobbiton," the pretty young barmaid, who was now old enough to help work at her father's establishment. Rosie smiled, and chatted, and amiably pretended to forget her past as well, but the truth of the matter was that she never forgot. 

Samwise Gamgee seemed to be the only one of her friends who didn't dismiss her feelings. He visited her family's hobbit hole on a weekly basis, with fresh new soil for their garden, and some seeds. This habit began shortly around the time he entered his tweens, and though Mr. Cotton would become exasperated by how much leftover seeds and soil they ended up having, Mrs. Cotton would always hush him, smiling as their daughter talked with the gardener's boy at the gate. 

Sam's weekly visits to the Cottons home became as dear to Rosie as the countless visits at Bag End. Ever since her first time there, Sam had made sure she never missed a single one of Mr. Bilbo's storytelling nights, always coming by to the Cottons to "cordially invite Miss Rosie" to those wondrous occasions. Because of this, Rosie made friends with all the young hobbits of Mr. Bilbo's favorite audience, and even learned to talk more and laugh a bit more loudly. 

The only problem was that the boy who inspired her to stretch her wings seemed to grow shyer and more awkward with each passing day. 

At first, it was barely noticeable. Sam was always a bit blunt and clumsy with his words, and Rosie found his behavior endearing. But it was around the time he began visiting her family's home "for fresh soil and seeds," when his shyness took a sharper turn. It never stopped him from visiting (much to her father's disgruntlement), but it did make conversations with Rosie increasingly one-sided. 

"How is your old Gaffer?" Rosie would ask. 

"Doing well, I thank you," Same would say, blushing a bit. 

"And how are you, Sam?"

Blushing even more: "I-I'm all right, Miss Rosie. H-how about you?"

"Oh, never better," Rosie would reply, and then she'd attempt to stretch the conversation to more than just small talk. 

She'd reminisce on their times at Bag End, and ponder aloud about how Frodo was getting on with his uncle, or she'd mention how beautiful their garden had grown thanks to Sam's kindness. Sam would mostly nod and blush, and look at his feet, but Rosie noticed that every time she mentioned a flower she loved, he'd bring its seedlings to her next time. 

One day, he even brought her whole bouquet of daffodils, muttering that perhaps she would use them to freshen up her bedroom. As Rosie took them, their hands brushed together, and Sam, turning the deepest shade of red, instantly removed his hands and hurriedly said his "good days" and "till next times" and pushed his wheelbarrow away. 

In spite of wishing he would say more, she still rather loved her time with Sam. And perhaps as a result of this, she thought to herself, as she inhaled the daffodils' fragrance, she was beginning to fall in love with him. 

* * *

"Rosie! Be a good gal and fetch me some pipeweed!"

"Of course!" Rosie called back, balancing a tray of half a dozen full mugs of ale on her hand. 

She handed them out accordingly, following her father's advice on smiling and chatting cheerfully to each customer. The already somewhat intoxicated hobbits at the table thanked her kindly, and one particularly bold fellow declared loudly to the whole bar that Rosie Cotton was the prettiest hobbit gal in all of Hobbiton, that she well was! Rosie smiled through her embarrassment, and rushed off to her next order. 

Mr. Cotton decided quite suddenly, midway through her tweens, that it was time Rosie became a full-time barmaid at the family's business. Tired of constantly distributing the leftover soil and seeds to his neighbors (and putting up with jokes about Samwise Gamgee courting his daughter), the old hobbit decided that if the young gardener was going to pursue his Rosie, then he'd best do it in a setting where soil and seeds are out of the question. 

Mr. Cotton had nothing against Sam; on the contrary, he rather agreed with his wife that he should get on with it and propose to their daughter already, but he was exasperated with the boy's roundabout methods.  _ Perhaps a drink or two will loosen his nerves _ , he thought to himself. 

Unfortunately, neither Rosie's father nor Rosie herself had any clue whatsoever when, if ever, Sam would finally make a move. 

Like the old hobbit predicted, Sam did indeed start making religious visits to the pub, often accompanied by his friends, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin, and on occasion, with his old Gaffer. But unlike what Mr. Cotton had hoped, Sam never made an attempt to steel his nerves. The more he drank, it seemed, the more glued to his seat he became. 

"It's hopeless," Mr. Cotton complained one night to his old friend, Bilbo Baggins, "absolutely hopeless. Here, I thought I was handing over my daughter, with my blessings, on a silver platter, and all he can do is mope in his drink!"

"Give the boy some time," Bilbo said sympathetically, puffing on his pipe. "He's a hardworking fellow, and straightens out my nephew from time to time. He just needs the right push." 

Mr. Cotton snorted, and poured his companion a drink. "You say it like it's easy. And of course, you'd be in a jolly mood! Your birthday's coming up, isn't it?"

"My dear friend, did you not receive my invitation?" Bilbo cried. "Oh, upon my word, I'll have to have a talk with Frodo when I come home. Of course, it's soon! It's tomorrow!"

* * *

News spread like wildfire of Gandalf the Grey visiting Hobbiton again. After Bilbo's brief visit to the Cotton's pub, he locked himself in Bag End, to "prepare for the grandest party in all of the Shire." Even his nephew, Frodo, seemed lost on Bilbo's strange intentions. The rest of the party-goers were working hard on preparations, all cheerfully excited about celebrating "Odd Mr. Bilbo's" one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday, if only because all hobbits love a good party. 

Even Rosie was released from her bartending duties to assist with the party. She and the other women prepared the potatoes, cabbages, mushrooms, and other foods for the feast, she made sure that her father's barrels of ale arrived in ample amounts, and even had time to chat with some of the older hobbits. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the hard work, evening soon fell and all of Hobbiton gathered under a starry and firework-lit sky to celebrate an old hobbit's birthday. 

Rosie was feeling rather giddy that evening. She danced and laughed delightedly with her friends and neighbors, feeling quite released from all anxiety that work, and pining over Sam, brought her. 

Then, quite out of nowhere, Sam was in her arms! He seemed just as startled as she, but the music was still going, and they were dancing, spinning in a group full of hobbits (and one very tall wizard), till the music finally came to a halt. Laughing and cheering, everyone applauded, and Sam and Rosie, both rather breathless, looked at one another properly for the first time. 

It was at that moment, when they realized that Rosie's arms were about Sam's neck, and his hands were wrapped tightly around her waist. For a beat, time stood still, and the two young adult hobbits gazed in each other's eyes, till Sam remembered himself, let go of her quickly and rushed off to the nearest ale barrel. 

Rosie stared after him, clutching her hands to her chest, the memories of a young, tiny Rosie loving the warmth of his hand, now loving the feel of his soft curls.... 

.

.

.

Frodo sighed, and turned to face two grinning faces. 

"Fine, you win," he said, tossing each of them a coin. Merry and Pippin laughed and high-fived each other. 

"It was a valiant effort, my dear Frodo," Pippin said consolingly (coming off rather empty, while he fiddled with his new prize). "But Sam just doesn't have it in him. He will be old and gray before he finally decides to settle down, and by then, the pretty barmaid will be whisked off by some other hobbit."

"Sometimes I feel like you're right, Pip," Frodo sighed, gulping down some ale. "But who knows?"


	3. An Unexpected Change

Not long after the infamous "Bilbo Baggins's Second Mysterious Disappearance," which occurred at the tail-end of his birthday party, his nephew Frodo, along with Samwise Gamgee, and Merry and Pippin, vanished too. Rosie didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Sam, though he did leave her a single daffodil on her doorstep. No one knew why or where the hobbits disappeared to, but the disgruntled elders mumbled about "adventurous nonsense," and "just like the old Tooks." 

At first, Rosie waited patiently for Sam and Frodo's return, telling herself it was merely a vacation, or perhaps sudden business with distant relatives. But as weeks turned to months, she learned to simply accept the fact that they might never return. But despite her parents' pleas, she refused any other suitors, and would not accept any flowers, not even daffodils, because only her Sam could give them to her. 

But she did not fade away, either. Though her fellow hobbit female friends were getting married all around her, Rosie still kept up her work at the pub, remaining pretty, cheerful, but distant with her customers. 

Once her resolve was clear, even Mr. Cotton would jump to her defense if a more persistent hobbit fellow tried to "persuade" her to marital status. Hobbits were not ones for violence, but one deadly glare from Mr. Cotton, standing behind the bar, wiping his mugs vigorously clean, soon became universal language for all eager hobbit suitors to back off. 

* * *

It was thirteen months after the day the four hobbits disappeared, when they had just suddenly returned home again. According to the gossip, they rode in on ponies, dressed most bizarrely, in armor, and carrying the rather arrogant auras of hobbits who trailed past the Shire's boundaries. 

At least, that's what the bitter Sackville-Baggins would say. Rosie didn't care how they looked, she just wanted to confirm that all four hobbits returned safe and sound, and was Sam all right? All day, anxiety and happiness shook her to the very core, and it wasn't until the four old friends entered her pub once again, and sat at a table, when her heart ceased beating for a moment. 

_ Sam. He's back! _

Too busy with customers, and too flustered to even know where to start, Rosie continued watching their table, wishing she had an opportunity to approach them. 

If she wasn't so preoccupied with her racing thoughts, she might have noticed that Sam's eyes remained on her. She might have seen the resolve in his face, when he took a gulp of ale, and stood up to walk over to her. 

Instead, she was startled when Sam was suddenly face-to-face with her, almost as close as he was the last time they were together, dancing in each other's arms. She felt her face flush red and she suddenly felt as though she was still that shy, young thing who this boy had practically forced to open up all those years ago. 

"Rosie Cotton," Sam said, in that loud, blunt voice he hadn't used with her since before they were tweens. "There hasn't been one day since Mr. Frodo and I were gone that I didn't think of you once. And on the occasions when we thought we couldn't get out alive --- I regretted that I never asked you this question." He grasped hold of her hand, causing her to gasp, and remember another time he boldly took her hand. "Will you marry me?"

.

.

.

Back at the table, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin stared blankly at each other. Then Pippin smiled wryly at Frodo. 

"Does this mean we owe you some money now, Frodo?"

Frodo shook his head, grinning, raising his mug in cheers. "Keep it. None of us are the same as before."


End file.
